


needlework

by khrysopos



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Hanamaki Takahiro - Freeform, fear of needles, hanamaki and me are the biggest bitches when a needle gets exposed, idk how to tag sorry, love to faint at the sight of it sigh yes, mention of a blowjob, mention of matsukawa and oikawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:53:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25766272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khrysopos/pseuds/khrysopos
Summary: hanamaki has a fear of needles, and you just so happen to be a med student.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Reader
Kudos: 43





	needlework

There was one rule in the house, the one that mattered the most, the only one that, if broken, would result in casualties.

Casualties in the form of hanamaki takahiro fainting – or ‘passing away’ as he put it. Always the drama queen when it came to that one rule you seemed constantly keen on breaking, deliberately or not.

Sometimes, when you’d be mad at the strawberry blonde, you’d  _ just so happen  _ to forget a needle in the kitchen table, or on the cushions of the couch, or you would just genuinely forget the damn thing laying somewhere in the apartment — the end result was the same; a panic stricken boyfriend on the edge of a heart attack bursting into whatever room you were in to start roasting you about your poor needle placement skills, or to berate you for being childish enough to mess with him like that.

(after the first few incidents, you had taken the habit of locking the bathroom door whenever you’d decide to give a fruit surgery)

The end result, however, of all those deliberate and non deliberate incidents was a new rule; no needles, no matter how small or big, were allowed in the house ever again. Period, point blank. 

It was currently 2 in the morning and takahiro was sprawled out on the couch in a truly magnanimous manner; a leg was folded under his body while the other had fallen to the ground – it was a miracle he fit into the small couch you two had bought with your skint college pockets. One arm was dangling off the couch and he had thrown the other over his face to cover his eyes from the harsh fluorescent lights the tv casted on you, playing through ads and late night soap operas.

Takahiro had insisted on staying awake to help you cope with your stress and anxiety from the biology test you had next week and he was struggling in vain to stay awake. After the tenth yawn of the night you deduced that you didn’t want the black circles under his eyes to become permanent, so you shooed him off to bed, “babe, seriously I’m fine. I won't take long, promise.”

Hanamaki – who was on the verge of passing out on the couch – jerked himself awake, wiping away the drool forming at the corner of his eyes, “no, no I’m good.” 

You scoffed, “no you’re not.” Getting up from the couch you thwacked at his thigh before grabbing his wrists. “C’mon, up you go you lazy bum, you need a proper sleeping schedule, doctor’s orders.”

As drowsy as he was, You managed to walk him to your shared bedroom where you tacked him in.

He snorted, “what, no goodnight story today?” there, with his eyes closed and the little dejected pout on his lips, Makki looked positively adorable.

“Oh dear,” you sighed dramatically, “I've spoiled you rotten haven’t I?” You asked theatrically and sat next to him on the bed. “There was once this little strawberry blonde bitch,” you started and Hanamaki snorted again, this time a smile blooming on his lips, cheeks pushing up against his eyes and creasing the corners. “and he wouldn’t go to sleep, so his medical student girlfriend gave him anesthesia. He was knocked out cold. The end.”

Makki’s expression turned into one of pure horror. He jerked the covers over his body and nose, leaving only vulnerable grey eyes exposed shining in fear. “You don’t have any needles hidden in here right? Matsukawa said the apartment was clear.”

You raised an eyebrow, “you called Mattsun to look for needles? Pathetic.” You smirked at him as he gaped.

He turned his back to you, no doubt pouting once again. “You are an evil woman. I hate you. but seriously though,” he twisted his head to gaze at you, chewing on his bottom lip worriedly, “you don’t have any in the house, right? I could get killed.”

“The needle isn’t thick enough to kill you if you get stabbed babe, and no, I  _ don’t have any needles here,  _ so go to sleep already.”

Okay so, maybe you  _ did  _ have a few needles hidden here and there, and you  _ may  _ have given a gift card to mattsun for his favorite steak house restaurant so he wouldn’t spill to makki — the pains you went through just so you could give your boyfriends peace and innocence. Little white lies like these were nothing in comparison to what would happen if Makki  _ did  _ manage to stumble upon a carefully concealed needle.

Sometimes you were required to train needle work – such as stitches and shots – outside of your uni hours and classes, so you’d go to great lengths and trained at home on fruits whenever Hanamaki was out — either attending his own classes or getting dragged out by Matsukawa and Oikawa.

You knew his schedule and worked around it, but just as fate favors the bold, sometimes it favors the wusses as well — namely Hanamaki Takahiro.

You were in the kitchen, bent over an apple and a small needle and thread for stitching. The apple was beyond bruised by the continued abuse by now and you were starting to get tired.

You’d accidentally pricked your fingers a number of times and most of them were wrapped with band-aids. You were beyond irked by now and was starting to see why Hanamaki hated those steel little shits so much.

(well, more like scared shitless)

What you hadn’t accounted for however was the fact that your ever so adorable boyfriend would walk into the house an hour earlier than he was supposed to.

Hanamaki seemed ecstatic, filled with bright smiles and twinkling grey eyes storming with little clouds of enthusiasm.

You were the exact opposite of that — as soon as the door burst open you yelped, scrambling to hide the needle and thread and to throw the apple in the trash. In your short lived struggles though you ended up straight up stabbing yourself in the palm of your hand and you  _ screamed.  _

Hanamaki – bless his poor, unsuspecting soul – speed walked to your side, brows scrunched up in worry. However, he took one look at the now bloody needle laying on the counter, the white thread surrounded by specks of blood, and just plain simply  _ passed out right then and there. _

He didn’t scream, he didn’t say anything, no words or whimpers. He didn’t even take shuddering breaths like someone on the verge of passing out would. He just saw the needle and folded like a fucking lawn chair, eyes rolling at the back of his head.

If not for the burning pain on your palm and the blood still pooling out in small quantities, you’d have found his reaction hilarious, maybe even bust out laughing from the way he fell to the ground soundless like a sack of potatoes — and you did. You shrieked some kind of horrendously scratched up laugh from the back of your throat while hurriedly tying a towel around your arm before falling to your knees next to hanamaki.

You raised his legs above heart level and started to softly slap his cheeks.

“Baby, baby, wake up. oh god, this is – Makki please, I’m so sorry but the way you fell, oh my god. Wake up.” You were giggling hysterically and it wasn’t long before you heard a groan from him.

Dropping his legs softly so as to not hurt him, you sprang up, grabbed the needle and thread and threw it into the garbage, doing the same with the apple. You sunk back to your knees and flashed your phone out.

Hanamaki tried to get up but you pushed him down again. “Don’t get up too soon, you might faint again.” You flashed the flashlight in his eyes, “follow the light.”

He gasped, “I'm dying.”

“No you dumbass, I need to see if you have a concussion. Uhm,” you rucked your brain for a question, “when is your birthday?”Hhe stared blankly up at you. He pushed the flashlight away and slowly tried to get up. He grabbed your shoulders for stabilization. “I don't have a concussion, what I do have is a horrible girlfriend and soon-to-be dead best friend. Is your hand okay? his long fingers – still trembling – gingerly touched your wrist in concern.

“It’s fine, just a small stab, nothing life threatening. I'm so sorry makki.”

“You don’t sound like it.” He dropped his hand from your wrist.

It’s true. You were swallowing down your laughter, the way he fainted replaying again and again inside your brain. You couldn’t get over how silent he was and how his body folded forward as he fell.

“Will a blow job change your mind?”

Makki halted, light gray eyes storming over. He licked his lips in mock contemplation, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smirk. “well, you  _ do  _ own me one.”

You quirked up a playful eyebrow. “big talk for a fella who fainted at the sight of a needle. i have another one hidden in –”

“Oh my god,  _ oh my god,”  _ he cupped his ears with his palms, “I don’t want to know! Just give me a blow job and I'll forget your betrayal, woman.”

You sighed “deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this hc once and I being someone who faints every time a needle gets close to me, it seemed fitting to write hanamaki folding at the mere sight of it, just for my own amusement. enjoy this catastrophe lmaooooo


End file.
